Page 7 of Unexpected Boyfriends

“What do you suggest?” I ask him, sitting up.

Alex pulls a little ball out of his backpack. It’s smaller than a tennis ball, a neon yellow color and it looks like it’s made of neoprene. He holds it up with a big grin.

“This!” he says and jumps to his feet. “C’mon.”

We head down to the water, where the tide has receded further. This time we wade out to the sandbank that now only has a thin layer of water lapping over it. As the foaming remnant of each wave sweeps across, the depth increases to over knee height of bubbling white water, before the water sucks back out to the ocean again.

Axel proceeds to show me what the little ball is capable of. It’s a type of hi-bounce ball but designed for water and thrown properly it dances at speed across the surface. It’s a bit like skipping stones, only easier. We have a lot of fun skipping the ball across the water to each other, throwing ourselves into the water to catch it when a wave comes in and swallowing a lot of salty water by trying to laugh and dive simultaneously.

Eventually I can’t take anymore. I am completely done. I flop down in the water, floating on my back in the shallows, the sand scraping against my back as the water rises and falls.

“Enough! You win.” I fake a weak groan.

Axel laughs and sits down in the water nearby. As a wave washes through, the water laps at his chest, drawing attention to his dark pink nipples which have pebbled up from splashing around in the chill water.

“Of course, I win. Locals always win,” he jokes.

I hit the water with the heel of my hand and shoot a sudden spray of water straight in his face. He was totally not expecting it and cops the lot. I’m nearly killing myself laughing when he launches himself at me and flips me into the water. I manage to not swallow any of the salty water.

“Unfair!” I protest re-surfacing.

Axel just smirks.

He’s taller, bigger and older. I’m not going to win this. So, I show him the middle finger. Classy.

AXEL

After successfully almost-drowning Justin and being shown his very mature middle finger as a sign of his surrender, we head back to our towels on the sand.

The sun, surf and mucking around has worn Justin out and I’m feeling tired too though I’m not going to let him know that. I have a feeling he’ll make an old man joke if I do. Andsonot interested in having him view me in that way.

We’re lying on our backs, looking up at the clear blue sky, enjoying each other’s company without feeling the need to fill the silence. In the background, seagulls are squawking, fighting over something and the piping voices of young children ring out further down the beach. All things considered, it’s been a pretty good day, which was not what I was expecting when I woke up this morning.

“Tell me what other things you used to do around here while growing up,” Justin breaks the silence.

I turn on my side and look at him.

“Well, apart from swimming and surfing, I used to hang out with my friends - obviously -and we'd often go fishing. Hanging out with friends led to me doing some pretty dumb stuff too, like scaling cliffs I shouldn’t have, jumping off wharves and rocks. Lucky to still be here I guess.” I shake my head at my younger self. “And then, when I was by myself which was quite often, I did a lot of exploring, walking around the headlands on the rocks… that was always fun.”

Justin wrinkles his nose. “What’s so special about walking on rocks?”

“Well, they’re coastal rocks and rock platforms, so if you like nature - which I do - there’s lots of interesting stuff to see. I found a small shark in a rock pool once…”

“Really?” he interrupts. "Was it still alive?"

“Yeah. Still alive. It was just waiting for the tide to come in again so it could get out of there. And I’ve seen a few octopi as well. Never touch those. There’s one called a blue-ringed octopus which you sometimes find in the rockpools around here… it can kill you within minutes.”

“Shit, that’s scary. But if they have blue-rings then surely they’re easy to identify?”

“The rings only glowafteryou’ve annoyed them,” I tell him, “which is probably going to be too late.”

“So how do you die?”

“When they bite, they inject a toxin that paralyses your muscles and you can’t breathe. You die of asphyxiation.”

“God, that must be an awful way to die.”

“Reckon. You’d be conscious and aware of what’s going on, but unable to do or say anything about it.”

---